Midnight Stories from the Yellow Bug
by mrjmo
Summary: short stories of things that happened in Portland in 2001 during the night. (note: not in chronological order)
1. Chapter 1

"Neal." she whispered.

"Emma." he whispered.

It was just before dawn, but neither had slept. They'd made love for the first time the evening prior after sneaking into a hotel room, and each had spent all night thinking of the other. Mostly imagining ways to say "I love you". As can be imagined, it was long overdue. It was not in Emma's nature, nor Neal's, to admit feelings quickly.

"I really... really, like you." She declared.

"Good," he said quietly. "'Cause I really...really...really like you." Her smile seemed to light up the bug, causing his cheeky grin to double the illumination.

"Yeah?" she challenged. Although it was pitch black, he could see her eyebrows raised and hear the elation in her soft voice. "Well, I really... really... really... really like you," she mused. He chuckled.

"Hey, Emma?" He took one of her hands in both of his. "I love you." She felt the swelling of joy in her heart finally burst and pervade throughout her body, causing a faint tingling in her extremities. Because he was holding her delicate hand so protectively, he knew she was reacting. He had to imagine it was a positive reaction; after all, she did really, really, really, really like him.

"Neal, I love you, too." she exclaimed gleefully, searching for his hair and pulling his face in for a passionate kiss. Once she had climbed onto his lap, their mouths moved in harmony and their hands grasped at hair and skin alike. The kiss fizzled down, until he was stroking her hair and she curled up to his chest. In that moment, at 5:30 in the morning, cuddling in a beat up, stolen stolen car, they knew their love was endless.


	2. Chapter 2

"Neal, wake up." Emma prodded his muscular arm that was wrapped around her, as they lay like a puzzle in the back seat of the bug.

"Wha- what is it, baby?" He mumbled.

"So you know, when you make that face when something bad is about to happen? Like, when we first met and we got pulled over by that cop-"

"YOU got pulled over by that cop!" His voice was losing the weakness brought on by sleep as his entire system was shaken awake by his princess' antics. This drew a soft giggle from her lips. "I'm sorry, baby, but you scared me!"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasin'." He explained. She nuzzled her golden head up into the crook of his neck.

"When YOU made me get pulled over by that cop, you made a face and you looked like a little puppy."

"A puppy?" He interrogated. "No. I'm much manlier. Like a lion."

"A baby lion." She suggested. He laughed and he gave her countless sloppy pecks among her jawline and neck. She began to laugh uncontrollably like a small child at this. "You're tickling me!" she shouted between bouts of laughter. He only held her tighter and kissed her harder. "Neal, Neal, stop," she cachinnated breathlessly. He stopped, but began to rub small circles her arm to soothe her back to sleep. Although, it helped him, too.

"Em, I don't know how to tell you how much I love you. There's only so many times I can say it in a day, but I could never get tired of letting you know if it even brings you the tiniest bit of happiness."

She simply scooted up to reach his head and placed a soft kiss to the top of it.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been quite the evening for Neal and Emma. They had spent the past few hours driving to various diners to taste peach pie, then escaping and driving away before paying. Emma had suggested the activity, due to their recent decision to move down south to Tallahassee, Florida. "They grow peaches down there, right?" she asked.

"I'm... pretty sure that's Georgia." Neal explained.

"Then what the hell comes from Florida?"

"Oranges." He replied.

"What are you, the fruit expert?" She teased, smirking at him.

"No," he laughed. "That's just basic knowledge."

"Not to someone who's lived up here for her entire life." She gestured wildly to the cool Portland air around them.

Peaches were not from Florida, but there were apparently no diners in the entire Northwest United States with any "orange pie". So they went on their Pie Hunt, as it would come to be called, as it would come to be a recurring activity. It was the first time either of them had seen the person they loved more than anything in the world cram eight enormous slices of pie into their pie-holes.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Trigger Warning: Self harm. This chapter is longer and more of a hurt/comfort genre.**

It was the first night Emma felt comfortable sleeping next to Neal. He rested on his side on the backseat, as did she. They fit together like two spoons, though their arms were wrapped around each other's and their legs were intertwined. He joked that, although this was called spooning, it was a feeling a real spoon would never have the pleasure to experience. Neal removed his right hand from the twisted knot of their own body parts that had grown in front of them. Neither had "snuggled" with anyone in quite awhile; it was possible they were a bit rusty. He brushed her cheek with the back of his warm hand. Somehow, she felt strangely at home with him. She didn't know whether it was because of his sunny demeanor or his soothing hugs, but she did know that things were starting to no longer be so dark when she was with him. He leaned over to kiss her neck and collarbones. She smiled and reached for his hand, sliding her fingers through the crevices between his. The summer air made the bug stuffier than usual, so she only wore her above-the-knee, sleeveless floral dress, and her glasses were thrown haphazardly somewhere on the floor. He wore his usual: a stained, nearly gray undershirt and ripped jeans. His bare arm, which gave her a surprising sense of safety and security, brushed against hers. Neal felt something rough against his wrist and looked down. Scabs. In the shape of perfectly formed lines, on her arm. He all but gasped when he noticed.

"Emma..." he breathed. She repositioned her entire body in order to face him. She felt a squirming in her abdomen, praying to a God she didn't even believe in that he hadn't noticed her cuts.

"Neal," she breathed back, trying her hardest to be playful and cute and not give anything away. But it felt like someone was digging a knife into her stomach as her heart pulsed so hard and loud that she grew worried he could hear it.

"Are you... are those..." he took her thin left wrist in his large hands. "Emma..." he whispered. She gulped as every fear she had became real. Emma Swan, mind you, was not one to share her emotions with anyone. She never had been. But she was struggling, and she felt like she'd hit rock bottom. Cutting was her last resort, and although she wished it hadn't, she had taken it up. "Oh, Emma," Neal held her head close to his chest in a tight hug. "Please, please never hurt yourself." He murmured softly into her hair.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm sorry." A fat tear fell down her cheek. She was unaware that they were even filling her eyes.

"Oh, Emma," he repeated. These were the only words he could think of. He was incapable of processing why such an attractive, alluring, downright angelic creature could not see herself the way he did. He stroked her thick blonde hair. His stomach convulsed as his heart fell through the earth. "I'm sorry, so so sorry... You mean the world to me, I can't... I can't figure out how... how you— you don't even know, how pretty you are, you don't know that you're the reason I wake up every morning, you don't even know that you light up a room when you walk in it... no, you could light up an entire country because you're just so beautiful when you walk and talk and it's just so unfair that you have no idea— and 'cause I don't tell you, it's my fault..." Emma's jaw dropped. "You don't deserve—"

"Neal, no. No! No, it's not your fault, it's not your fault!" she claimed softly, her voice breaking. "You're the light of my life, if anything, you're the reason it rarely happens, okay? I was just upset, thinking about my past... it was stupid. But it is not your fault." she explained, taking his face in her hands. "Just please understand that." He nodded and held her face, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

"You don't deserve to dislike yourself." Neal noted,

"Thank you." Emma answered.

"You're welcome." Neal responded. "Can you make me a promise, my angel?"

She offered a weak smile. "Yes."

"Please promise me you will never ever ever ever ever ever ever hurt yourself ever again."

"Yes."

"Now, can I tell you a secret?"

"What?"

"I like you a lot." Neal stated. Emma giggled, and simply replied,

"And I you." before she pecked his nose and drifted off to a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters. Hope you enjoy!**

The clock read 2:30.

"Babe?" Emma asked.

"Mm." Neal moaned, still very much asleep, but acknowledging her voice.

"I'm hungry." She stated.

"Go to sleep." He answered.

"No, thank you."

"Come back and snuggle," he suggested from the back seat. She sat shotgun with her feet resting on the dashboard.

"Mmm. I'm comfy though," She argued.

"Come be with me, I'll make you real comfy," Neal teased. Although their little home was only barely illuminated by a nearby streetlight, she knew he was smirking and making those infamous puppy-dog eyes. This earned him a warm chuckle.

"So, why're you awake?" he wondered.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Why not?"

"Just couldn't."

"Don't believe you."

"How come?"

"You were thinking. I could tell. You weren't tired. Your body was; I know because your eyes kept watering. But your mind wasn't. It was racing faster than us outta that convenient store." He remarked. Her jaw hung freely, leaving her mouth agape. Uh oh, was she mad? "The baby's coming!" Neal shrieked in a high pitched voice, imitating her. She rewarded him with a signature eye roll and smirk. He had found that comic relief was always the best approach in a sticky situation.

"How... how did you... know all that?" Emma asked, impressed and bewildered.

"I know ya' better than you think I do." Neal replied, facing the road, but his mind wrapped around her. Did that sound creepy? He certainly hoped not. "I mean, of course, like, not that I watch you sleep or anything." Lie. He liked to watch her dreams take her through soft smiles and occasional eye flutters. And when she had nightmares, he took note that she began to shiver. When this happened, he usually unzipped his rust colored hoodie and draped it over her. If she was lying next to him, he was sure to pet her arm up and down in order to comfort her. "I'm not a creep," He finished. A genuine smile flashed across her face. He loved that he wasn't so arrogant, like every other man she had ever been with. He was aware that she was much, much more than just a pretty– no, pulchritudinous, face. She was a complex mind, a complicated soul.

"Well, I know things about you, too." She combatted.

"Like what?"

"Well I'll be a creep. I have seen you sleep. When I can't sleep, I just watch you. You look peaceful; it's calming to just see you. Except for when you have bad dreams. You always grab the air with your hand and you say 'Papa!'" Neal's eyes widened and grew glassy. Losing his father, clearly, was not a happy memory. "So usually I just hold your hand until you're okay again." Somehow, he felt happy. He'd just been reminded of the worst event he had ever experienced, and this woman made it all okay. She made it all better than okay. He reached for her hand at that point. She took his larger one in her two small ones and kissed it. Emma let go and climbed in the back seat to be with him.

Their usual position was spooning, but that particular night, she decided to lay on top of him with her arms around his neck and head resting on his chest. That night, Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy slept more tranquilly than ever before, each only thinking of the beautiful person sleeping beside them.


	6. Chapter 6

The clock tower rang twelve times.

Midnight.

He knew because he counted under his breath.

She knew because she listened.

"I love you." said Neal.

"I know." said Emma.

His face was the last thing she saw before sleep.

Her voice was the last thing he heard before sleep.

"You know, there's not a lot I remember about my father that doesn't suck." He explained the next morning, "But he once told me that the thing you think of before you fall asleep is what's making you happier than anything in the world."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Mmm." he confirmed.

"I thought of you." they whispered in unison.


End file.
